Past Journey's End
by Catching Tomorrow
Summary: The battle for Amestris is over and everyone's settling into their new lives, but it's not always clear what happens past journey's end.          Adds depth to what happened to your favourite characters after the epilogue. Spoilers, of course.
1. You're Dreaming

My second ever fanfic! Yeah, it's Ling and Lan Fan again. I think these two might - MIGHT - be my favourite FMA pairing. But then Edwin, Royai and Almei are so close behind it's hard to tell. Anyway, this one is more about friendship than anything but it's definitely very sweet. I always wondered what happened to them after they got back to Xing. Yeah, we get the photo at the end of the manga, but that doesn't tell us much. I know I still haven't answered many (read: any) questions, but I just wanted to expand on the ending a bit. So... enjoy! Please leave a review if you like it, you have no idea how inspiring those things are.

Speaking of inspiring, this story was inspired by this awesome sketchdump by the talented RaposaBranca:

raposabranca(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/Moar-Ling-Lan-Fan-160560115?q=boost%3Apopular%20ling%20lan%20fan&qo=3

If FMA belonged to me then EDWARD WOULD'VE KISSED WINRY ON THAT DAMN TRAIN STATION. What is it with manga and meaningful hugs? Grrrr...

EDIT: I'll be putting dates up the top of each one so you can tell when it takes place. The manga starts in 1914 and it's not entirely clear when it ends, so I'm going to go with early 1915.

o.O.o.O.o.

January 29th 1915

Mei had forgotten how tough the journey back to Xing was. Sweltering heat during the day followed by numbing cold at night, sand shifting beneath your feet and making you work twice as hard to go half as far. And the sheer distance… At least this time Mei wasn't attempting the journey alone. Her half-brother Ling – who was acting far more brotherly now that his victory was assured – and his bodyguard Lan Fan were with her. Ling was marching triumphantly back with the means to become Emperor, Lan Fan was loyally at his side, and Mei… well, Mei was just going home.

It was interesting, she thought, how the journey was never over, not even when they reached the journey's end. If this was one of her books, one of the beloved fairytales and adventure stories that lined her shelves back at the Chang manor, it would've ended by now. The good guys had won, the bad guys had been stopped and Amestris was finally safe. The tale had come to an end. The everlasting desert, however, begged to differ. She still had a long way to go until she got home, and then there was more waiting for her after that. She had to grow up, study alkahestry, fulfil her duties as a princess of the Chang clan. The excitement had passed, but her story was not over yet. Mei felt a smile tug at her lips despite the burning heat and the fatigue gnawing at her bones. Stories never ended, not really. They were just small snippets from the great, long tale that was the world. But for now, this snippet involved no fights or bad guys or princesses to rescue. No, she was just going home. Maybe not to all the glory and acclaim she'd dreamt of when she was still convinced she'd be the one to bring back a Philosopher's Stone, but home was home all the same.

It seemed like an age before they finally surrendered to their exhaustion and set up camp for the night. They unstrapped the saddlebags from the horses and rolled out their sleeping bags while the light faded quickly and the sun dropped over the horizon. With the sun went the temperature, and they were shivering by the time they'd found some scrubby-looking trees and started a campfire. They didn't speak much over dinner; they all had plenty on their minds. They hadn't exchanged more than a few meaningless conversations this whole journey, in fact. Mei couldn't blame them. Their cargo served as a constant reminder of what they'd lost in the struggle, and it was difficult to smile and chat with it less than ten feet away.

When Mei finally snuggled up under her blankets, her limbs aching with fatigue, she dropped off to sleep almost instantly.

o.O.o.O.o.

She could never remember exactly what woke her up. She'd always been a light sleeper; maybe she'd sensed movement from the other side of the camp? Or perhaps it was just the sound of rustling fabric. Whatever it was, Mei found herself awake in the middle of the night. She closed her eyes again, determined to go back to sleep, but Ling's voice caught her attention.

"Lan Fan?"

Mei shifted under her blankets to get a better view across the campsite. Two figures were silhouetted against the firelight, completely oblivious to her. Lan Fan was sitting by the campfire and Ling, his hair hanging loose and ruffled around his shoulders, was pushing himself into a seated position.

"Yes, young lord?"

"I can't sleep."

"You should try to rest anyway. We have a long way to go tomorrow."

There was a short silence. Ling didn't move to lie back down again.

"You can't sleep either, can you?" he asked.

Lan Fan sighed and shook her head.

"Why not?"

There was another silence before she spoke again. When she did, her voice was smaller and more vulnerable than Mei had ever heard it. It surprised her; Lan Fan was strong, stoic, undefeatable. Mei had never imagined that she was even capable of such a voice. "I miss him."

She hugged her knees to her chin, her huddled figure suddenly very small. Ling threw off his blankets and sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I miss him too."

Mei cast a glance over to their most precious cargo, being careful not to rustle the material of her makeshift bed. She didn't want to be caught eavesdropping, even if she couldn't help it. The small, plain coffin had been supplied by the Amestrian military. It was nothing special, but it was perfect for the task of transporting Fu's body back to Xing. Mei hadn't known the old man, but the details of his sacrifice were enough to bring tears to even her eyes. She couldn't imagine what it must be like for Lan Fan, his granddaughter and comrade, and Ling, who he had known for most of the young prince's life. For Mei, who was an emotional person at the best of times, the very thought of it made tears threaten to slip past her eyelids. Her half-brother and his bodyguard had acted cheerful enough, pleased that they'd managed to help save Amestris and procure a Philosopher's Stone, but she could see that they were hiding the pain of losing Fu.

She turned her attention back to the two figures on the other side of the campsite and was surprised to see that Lan Fan's head had dropped onto Ling's shoulder. His head was resting on hers, his arm still around her. Their faces were obscured by darkness and no matter how hard Mei squinted it was impossible for her to see if they had finally succumbed to tears.

"He died a hero's death," said Ling suddenly, his voice steady and uncharacteristically solemn. "Without him, Buccaneer could never have killed Wrath."

"I know. He died honourably in battle; that's what he would've wanted."

"When we get back to Xing, I'll make sure he gets a proper send-off and the highest commendation there is. His sacrifice will not be forgotten. Him and…" Ling's voice wavered and trailed away.

"Greed?" asked Lan Fan quietly.

He nodded.

"You miss him too, don't you?"

Another nod. "When you share a body and mind with someone, you get to know them. I know Greed wasn't exactly a paragon of virtue, but he came through for us. He saved my life. But then, after you've shared every moment of your existence with them for what feels like forever, they just disappear… It's an empty feeling, Lan Fan. Like a part of you is just missing all of a sudden and you know you'll never find it again."

Lan Fan was quiet for a moment. "I think I might know what you mean," she whispered. Mei's ears struggled to catch the words over the crackling fire. "But I got my part back."

Mei watched as the two of them just sat there, two silhouettes merged into one, leaning on each other emotionally, mentally and physically with no words needed. She almost felt jealous; she had never been as close to anyone as these two clearly were to each other. She'd never experienced a bond of friendship as tight and unconditional as the one wrapped around the two people next to the campfire. She'd had bodyguards, of course, but they'd always been much older than her and very cold and professional. All her time had been spent studying and learning Alkahestry, and she hadn't had the time or the freedom to make friends. She smiled at the tiny panda sleeping next to her pillow. Xiaomei had been her only companion for as long as she could remember. That was, until she decided to travel across the desert by herself to find the secret to immortality. People had been shocked to find such a small person travelling alone, but to Mei it was nothing new. She was always alone.

That was, until she met Mr Scar. He was gruff and distant and didn't talk much, but Mei had taken an instant liking to him. She found Yoki too, a funny little man who always seemed to have fate conspiring against him. He didn't have much of a sense of humour but he always managed to make her laugh, whether he meant to or not. Dr Marcoh had been sad, very sad, never cracking a joke or a smile, but his disfigured face hid a deep, warm kindness that always made her smile even if he wouldn't. Others had come after them, most notably Alphonse-sama. Mei felt a big, stupid smile split her face at the thought of him. He was her knight in shining armour – literally – even if he didn't know it yet. Even Edward, the hot-tempered, angry little alchemist who had broken her heart and had the indecency to not be the charming, handsome young man she'd expected, could be counted among her friends by the end of her journey.

Mei smiled and closed her eyes. She'd managed to make more friends in the past six months than she had in her entire life. It was a strange feeling, knowing there were people out there who cared about her as more than just the princess of the Chang clan. Strange, but wonderful.

"Lan Fan?" asked Ling. Mei opened her eyes again to see them in exactly the same position they'd been in before, leaning on each other with Ling's arm around his bodyguard.

"Yes, young lord?"

"You don't have to call me that, you know."

"I know," she sighed. "But don't you think we've broken enough rules about appropriate bodyguard behaviour? I'd like to leave at least one tradition intact."

"Fair enough," said Ling, and Mei could've sworn she saw him smile. "But, Lan Fan…"

"Yes?"

"What next? What happens when we get back to Xing?"

"You will be hailed as a hero of the Yao clan. You will present the Philosopher's Stone to the Emperor and, if all goes well, he will name you his heir. His health is fading fast; you should become Emperor in a matter of weeks."

"Right," said Ling. To Mei's surprise, his voice was subdued, almost disappointed. In her head, Ling had always been her rival for the throne, someone associated only with the thought of competition. To hear him doubt what she always judged to be his most important characteristic – his desire for power – was entirely unexpected. She didn't know what to make of it.

Lan Fan seemed to be as confused as she was. "Second thoughts, young lord?"

"No, of course not," he sighed. "Really. I've always known that I'd be Emperor someday, and now it's so close I can taste it. It's almost surreal."

"You'll be the best Emperor Xing has ever seen, young lord. I'm sure of it."

He laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Lan Fan. But I don't need reassuring; I'll make this country even greater than it already is, I've always known that. I'll make a great Emperor. It's just, the thought of ruling an entire nation, with millions of people all depending on you… it's a bit intimidating, that's all…" his voice trailed off for a moment, but he quickly snapped back to attention and continued. "But I already know exactly what I'm going to do. There's gonna be some big changes once I'm in charge."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, for one, all this clan segregation is just ridiculous. How are we supposed to advance as a country if we're all separated into fifty different factions all fighting for power? Whose stupid idea was that, anyway?"

"I don't think it was anyone's _idea_, it just-"

"Rhetorical question, Lan Fan. What I'm trying to say is that the clans themselves aren't a bad thing, but the animosity that they cause is. When I'm Emperor, I'm going to take steps to bring the clans together. It doesn't matter if we're Yaos or Changs or Hans or anything else, we're still Xingese."

"That… was uncharacteristically wise of you, young lord."

Ling laughed again and squeezed Lan Fan's shoulders. "I'm glad you think so. But I don't care how wise I am, I still want twenty-four hour access to the palace kitchens."

Mei couldn't keep a grin off her face. So it was still Ling in there after all.

"Do you have any other radical changes planned?" asked Lan Fan. "Or is that it?"

"Oh, plenty," said Ling, raising his free arm in a sweeping gesture. "That whole thing with the fifty wives will have to go. I know I'm handsome, but fifty might be a little too many."

Lan Fan lifted her head off his shoulder and stared at him in surprise. "But that's one of our oldest traditions, young lord! People won't like to see it go."

"But I'll be the Emperor," he pointed out. "Ruler of Xing. They can't stop me!"

"It doesn't work like that," she muttered.

"I don't care. It's a stupid tradition anyway, I'll just make them see that. The most ambitious kid isn't always the right one for the throne. They could be cutthroat and cruel for all we know; eliminating the competition doesn't guarantee a good ruler. Besides, I have selfish reasons for changing it too."

So Greed really had rubbed off on him. Or had he always been like this? Whatever the answer to that question, Mei had to admit that his new ideas were reasonable. Radical, just like he'd said, and certainly controversial, but she had a feeling that he could make people see things his way. And the more she thought about it, the more she realised there were two different ways to think about Ling's intentions. Bringing the clans together meant that there would be less quarrelling and more co-operation, less tension between people with different surnames and more peace and serenity in which Xing could grow and flourish. Of course, it also meant that they would be less a group of clans ruled by their respective leaders and more a single country ruled by an Emperor. He was unifying Xing and with that came even more power and authority. Mei couldn't help but crack a smile. Which particular motive had been at the front of Ling's mind when he'd come up with this idea?

Changing the tradition about the wives was the same. By raising only one family, he would be able to closely select the wisest and most benevolent child to succeed the throne. The Emperor would come to power by proving themself the best person for the job, not by eliminating the competition. Of course, this rule could be seen as selfish too. There was no way anyone could find any kind of meaningful connection with fifty different wives. He was sacrificing an ancient tradition for his own personal happiness.

"What would those be?" asked Lan Fan. Mei's thoughts drifted away as her eyes wandered back over to the two silhouettes by the fire.

"Oh, you know," said Ling casually. "Fifty wives would be a lot to keep up with. You know me; I'd lose them and forget their names and piss them all off somehow."

"How many wives would you prefer, young lord?" asked Lan Fan. Mei was surprised she could keep a straight face while asking such a ridiculous question. But then again, she had been Ling's bodyguard for a long time now. She must be very good at keeping a straight face.

"Just one," he said. "I think I could manage one."

They lapsed into another silence. Mei felt her eyes grow heavy and flutter closed. The moon was high in the sky, a brilliant white circle amongst so many stars… She felt sleep creep up on her like a warm, heavy tide, washing over her and dragging her slowly out into the blackness. It had been a long day and there were many more long days to come, and Mei knew she needed to sleep or she'd never make it. But even as her eyes were closed, her ears picked up the last minute of Ling and Lan Fan's conversation.

"You should rest, young lord, or you'll be too tired to travel in the morning."

"You should get some sleep too, Lan Fan."

There was a rustle of fabric as they climbed back under their blankets. Mei smiled and rolled over, snuggling down into the warmth of her makeshift bed. Desert nights were as cold as the days were hot and she was glad of the warm, comforting fire crackling next to her.

"Are you alright, young lord?"

The words were distant, barely reaching Mei's ears as her mind floated off into unconsciousness.

"I'm fine. Like I said, it's just a bit intimidating. That's all."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

o.O.o.O.o.

Mei awoke the next morning with a strange memory. She couldn't be sure whether she'd woken up again during the night or if this was all just a dream concocted by her own subconscious after all she'd seen and heard. Whatever it was, the details were fuzzy but she still remembered it clearly. The rustling of fabric was what made her open her eyes, whether for real or just to observe the dream. The sky was still an inky black sprinkled with millions of stars and the fire was still burning, if perhaps a little weaker than before. Mei shifted under her blankets to look for the source of the noise.

Ling's bed was empty. Her hazy, sleep-filled eyes wandered over to Lan Fan's bed and saw two lumps under the covers. She wasn't awake enough to feel surprise. From what she could see, Ling was curled into a ball, clutching Lan Fan to him like she was the last pillar holding him up. Like if he let her go, he'd fall into the unknown and never find his way back again. Like he was terrified of what was to come and she was the only thing keeping him safe.

"How did you end up here, young lord?" whispered Lan Fan, her voice slurred with sleep.

"I didn't," he murmured. "You're dreaming. Now go back to sleep."

There was a short pause. "Dreams aren't supposed to be _warm_."

"Back to sleep, Lan Fan."


	2. All of Always

Yeah, I wasn't expecting a Chapter Two either. Past Journey's End was supposed to be a sweet little LingFan oneshot, but it really got me thinking. What _did _happen to everyone after the end? So, to answer that question, I'm going to be writing a whole bunch of chapters dealing with everyone's lives after the epilogue. Everything has a root in canon and I'm trying as hard as I can to stay in character and consistent with the story, so hopefully they'll add a bit of depth to the ending for you.

First (well, second) up, Edward Elric and Winry Rockbell. I wasn't sure what to do with them because I didn't really want it to be mushy - as much as I love those two, they're anything but mushy - and I knew that if I put them together it would undoubtedly be mushy. Ed wouldn't come home from the west a lot, so when he did they'd want to make the most of it (read=mush). So he's not home. This one's shorter than the others, but hey, quality over quantity, right?

Please leave a review if you like it! It's always good to know people are enjoying what I write XD.

o.O.o.O.o.

14th June 1921

To Edward Elric, wherever you are.

It's me again. Did my last letters find you okay? I just addressed them to the last place you were staying, but I remember you mentioned something about moving on again. You really need to tell me where you're going, Ed! I can't just send letters to 'somewhere in the West area'! Well, if you did get them, then you can skip this next bit.

I finished my book on automail! I've been working on that thing for _ages_, I'm so glad it's finally done. I've already sent the manuscript to Central to be published. I've been hopping backwards and forwards between Risembool and Rush Valley for the better part of a year now, finalising the details. Not to brag or anything, but Garfiel told me he learned a thing or two from it. Even Mr Dominic said he thought it had the potential to revolutionise automail engineering! Just wait until you get back, Ed! I've worked out so many new techniques from writing that book, your leg's gonna feel better than the genuine article! Oh, now I can't wait to work on it again… Come back soon, okay? I know you don't need tuning as much as you did when you were fighting everything that moved, but you'll mess up your spine if you leave it unmaintained for too long. And you are remembering to oil and polish it, right? And dry it off if it gets wet? If you're planning on coming home with rusted automail then you should know that my book is five hundred pages long and _very _heavy.

Are you getting letters from Al? I am, but he's just as confused as me about where you are at the moment. You should really try to communicate more, Ed. We want to hear from you just as much as you want to hear from us, you know! If his last few letters didn't get there, then you should know that he's making good progress with alkahestry. Apparently it was so different from alchemy that he had a lot of trouble at with it at first, but he says Mei's an excellent teacher. I don't know anything about alchemy or alkahestry so I don't understand half the stuff he writes, but he certainly sounds enthusiastic. You're gonna have to work hard if you want to equal his findings when you pool your research. Speaking of Xing, he says Ling's practically starting a new era over there. He's given jobs in the palace to people other than just Yaos and there's not nearly so much tension between the different clans. Maybe I should've accepted his proposal when I had the chance? Nah, just kidding – Lan Fan would murder me, I'm sure. Al says Mei's very optimistic about it. He says a lot about Mei, actually, if you catch my drift. Apparently you wouldn't recognise her; she's a lot older and a lot more… well, he says 'elegant', but I think we both know what he means.

Anyway, how are things in the west? Learning lots of interesting alchemy stuff? Eating lots of western cuisine? You really should come back more often, Ed. I know it's difficult, but I miss you. And also... I have something to tell you. Remember last time you were here, when we went for that walk through the fields at midnight? We just lay in the grass, staring up at the stars, and you told me about when Izumi abandoned you on that island during your alchemy training? You said that we were all part of a flow of life too big to be seen by human eyes. We were part of it and it was part of us, and compared to that flow we're all like tiny ants. I had no idea what you meant back then, but I think I understand now. It doesn't matter how small we are, we're all wrapped up in the universal flow. We take life in order to keep our life going, and then it's our responsibility to make new life. It all makes sense to me now. Please come back soon. Things as important as this need to be talked about face to face, not through letters.

Seriously, come back. You've been away for two months now. I miss you. It's okay if you don't write back to me very often, I know you're busy, but I need to see you again.

I love you.

Always (or, at least, eighty-five percent of always),

Winry Rockbell

o.O.o.O.o.

20th June 1921

To Winry Rockbell,

I'm coming back. Wait for me.

All of always,

Edward Elric


	3. Eye of the Storm

Aaand part three! This time it's Mei Chang (again) and Alphonse Elric. These two are so much fun to write about; they're probably the two cutest, purest people in the entire series. They're staying at the Chang manor together and Al is finding alkahestry a bit tougher than he expected.

Please leave a review if you have anything to add - constructive criticism is very much appreciated!

o.O.o.O.o

September 6th 1919

"Remind me why we're doing this again?"

Mei Chang let go of Alphonse Elric's hand and turned to face him, a wide smile splitting her face. "You don't need to be so worried. I wouldn't bring you here if I didn't think you were ready."

"But there's so many _people_! How am I supposed to practise alkahestry here?" Al stared apprehensively out at his surroundings. Mei had woken him up that morning before the sun had even risen, already fully dressed and wide awake, and announced that they were going to the markets as part of his training. He'd been too tired to do anything other than do as she said and get ready, Mei still chattering at him from behind his bedroom door, and let her lead him out of the Chang manor and down the road to the nearby town. Most of the other clan manors were either isolated in the country or right in the middle of the biggest cities, but not this one. Back when the Chang clan was poor and downtrodden, before Ling had become Emperor and raised their standing considerably, a house near this rural town was all they could afford. They'd expanded and decorated it with their recently acquired wealth, but they couldn't bring themselves to leave their ancestral home.

By the time Al's brain had kicked into action, it was too late. They were already standing in the middle of the most energetic, bustling market that he had ever seen in his life. Even Central City had nothing on this place. There were stalls full of fruit and vegetables, freshly caught fish, hand-woven clothes, exotic spices, handmade jewellery and countless other things, most of which Al didn't even recognise. What looked like some kind of circus act was in full swing in the centre of the market, people in brightly coloured costumes dancing and performing tricks for the excited crowd. Merchants were all trying to shout above the din, advertising their wares and their wonderful prices. Even Al, who had got a pretty good grip on Xingese and could now hold a conversation without sounding like a five-year-old, couldn't make out half of what was being said.

On a regular day, Al would've been delighted to be surrounded by so much foreign culture. He would've given anything for a few hours to look around these stalls, talk to some of the people and buy a few of the exotic goods. But he was supposed to practise alkahestry here? He'd only just got the hang of feeling the Dragon's Pulse in quiet, secluded places out in the manor's gardens where the chi flowed almost uninterrupted. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like here; chaotic, frenzied, overwhelming. He was not ready for this.

Mei, however, seemed to have complete faith in him. She plonked herself down at a table outside a small cafe and gestured for him to sit opposite her. She ordered green tea from a waitress and turned to beam at Al.

"Your task," she said, resting her chin in her hands, "is simple. Feel the Dragon's Pulse. Understand it. It'll be a challenge, but not impossible. It's actually quite soothing when you get the hang of it. When I was learning alkahestry, I came out here every morning to meditate."

Al stared out at the loud, chaotic market, his eyebrows raised. It didn't seem like the ideal place for meditation. You could barely move for frenzied people shouting to each other and hunting for bargains. "You meditated _here_?"

"Yep," she said. "You'll see the value of it eventually. Maybe today, maybe a year from now, but you will." Her green tea came and she took a long gulp from the cup, sighing in relief. Al had a feeling that Xingese tea was a bit like Amestrian coffee; once you got used to the taste, you couldn't get enough. As he watched her sip from the little traditional cup, he couldn't help but notice, once again, how different she was to when he'd first met her. She'd had a growth spurt in the two years before he came to Xing and was now only a head shorter than he was, something that Ed downright refused to believe when he tried to tell him. In his brother's mind, Mei was still the crazy shrimp with the vicious alien cat. A vicious alien cat that was now sitting on her shoulder, sniffing at her tea as if wishing she had her own miniature cup to drink from. He smiled as she gave Xiaomei one of the little sweets that had come with the tea and the panda grabbed it eagerly. She'd started wearing her hair out too, falling down to her waist in a shiny, inky black waterfall. Although her face was still round and a little childlike, she'd grown into her features and now looked much more like a young woman than a little girl. There was no doubt about it; she was no longer just cute, she was beautiful.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked, jerking Al out of his reverie. She sat back in her chair and took another gulp of tea. "Get practising! The Dragon's Pulse won't sense itself, you know."

"Right." Al closed his eyes and thought back to the hours they'd spent in the Chang manor's extensive gardens, sitting in silence and letting the chi flow through them. He'd only got the hang of it a little while ago, but it had been easier since then. Mei's words echoed through his head: _"Feel your connection to the ground. You're part of it and it's part of you. You're growing roots, roots that stretch right down into the earth. Empty your mind, relax your body, let the chi flow up through your roots and into your core…_" He planted his feet firmly on the ground and imagined those roots growing out of them, into the floor and the chair he was sitting on, down into the earth and out around the marketplace…

It was working. Just a little bit, but it was working. He felt a deep, slow throbbing reverberating through his body. No, not his body… it was more abstract than that. Through his soul? That was more likely, actually. Chi was an energetic substance, just like his soul, and the two could be more easily combined through the principles of familial transfer to form-

"Al, stop thinking," came Mei's voice, sounding exasperated. "You've got that scientific look on your face again. Alkahestry isn't like alchemy, it's not a science. There's no theory. You've just got to empty your mind and _feel_ it."

Reluctantly, he did so, and felt the throbbing increase in intensity. Okay, he'd tapped into the Dragon's Pulse. He took another minute to just focus on his breathing, strengthening his connection to the flow, then pushed outwards to sense the market.

He jolted upright, his eyes flying open. He'd never felt chi like that before. It wasn't the peaceful, soft flow he was used to. It was less like a soaring bird and more like a swarm of frenzied insects. He stared at Mei with wide, disbelieving eyes. She'd _meditated _here? And now she was expecting him to do the same? He could barely sense the chi here without being overwhelmed!

"Pretty difficult, isn't it?" she asked casually, still smiling at him like an overexcited little sister rather than a teacher. "Keep trying. You'll get the hang of it. I can't teach you any tricks or theory work; you need to figure this one out by yourself."

Al closed his eyes again a little unwillingly. The morning sunlight was shining through a coloured lamp hanging from the cafe awning and catching Mei's hair in quite a beautiful way; he would've liked to observe that for a bit. He formed his connection to the Dragon's Pulse again, letting it flow through him like a second heartbeat, then pushed gently outwards to sense the marketplace again.

The jolt of activity hit him like an electric shock, but he refused to let go of the connection. He was obviously going to have to ride this wave, to fight the confusion and conquer it. He felt a merchant shouting about his fish, a group of children playing tag, the dance of the circus performers, a hundred little mice scurrying around in a container at a stall selling pets, all the tiny little impacts of a handful of coins hitting the ground and thousands of other things all at once, each one fighting for his attention and buffeting him this way and that like a hurricane. He gritted his teeth and gripped the arms of his chair, screwing his eyes tightly shut and hanging onto the connection with as much force as he could muster. This wasn't meditation; this was a battle.

And then, just a tiny shadow of feeling for a fraction of a second, Al sensed a rabbit. It was dead and cooked, hanging from a stall and waiting for someone to come and take it home to eat. He remembered the taste of rabbit – without all the Xingese spices, of course – from his training in Dublith with Izumi. A hundred more tiny sensory memories battered Al's mind; fishing in the ocean, making sparks for a fire, running from the man in the mask.

His eyes snapped open again, his connection to the Dragon's Pulse lost. The first thing he saw was Mei's face staring intently into his, which shattered what little concentration he had left. She looked very elegant, sipping her tea with her shiny black hair and pink silk dress. _Elegant. That's a good word. I should remember that one._

"Do you want to go back?" she asked. "Maybe this was a bit difficult for you. We could always try again later."

"No," he panted, surprised at his own breathlessness. This was tiring work, even if he wasn't moving a muscle. "No, I think I've realised something. I can do this."

"Well try again then, by all means," she said, making a sweeping gesture with her free hand and leaning back in her chair again.

Al closed his eyes, re-established the connection and pushed back out towards the market for the third time. But now he knew what he was doing. Now he knew he could do it. The whole point of his gruelling, exhausting month on Yock Island was to teach him the alchemic concept 'all is one and one is all'. That every tiny thing is part of one great, universal flow of power that encompasses the entire universe. Everything was involved in that, from ants to people to Xingese marketplaces. The theory was alchemic, not alkahestric, and Mei always insisted that the two were completely unrelated, but if it worked…

He felt the wave of chaotic activity smack into him and, instead of tensing to fight it, let himself relax. He allowed the mass of frenzied chi to wash over him, just accepting it and letting it flow through him rather than trying to hold onto each little detail. This was a crazy, loud, energetic horde of miniscule fragments of chi like a swarm of insects, but it was also a marketplace, and that marketplace was part of the Dragon's Pulse; part of the world. He was the eye of the storm, the strong, calm force in the centre of the hurricane of chi, letting it flow through him, taking in each detail before letting it pass uninterrupted.

He opened his eyes, slowly this time, to see Mei watching him. Two huge smiles broke out on their faces at exactly the same time.

"You did it!" she squealed, almost knocking over the table as she threw her arms around him. "I knew you could! What was it like?"

"It was amazing," he said, trying to find words with the flowery scent of Mei's hair right by his nose distracting him more effectively than any marketplace. "Crazy and chaotic, but peaceful at the same time."

"Like you could meditate?"

"For hours. It's way better than any field in the middle of nowhere."

She let go of him and held him at arm's length, surveyed him with excited eyes, then beamed at him. "I think you're ready."

"What for?"

"I've been keeping these for you, waiting until the right moment. I think you've proven yourself more than ready for them."

She reached into her bag, pulled out a small silk pouch and laid it in front of him. Al picked it up hesitantly, tugged at the drawstrings and emptied it out onto the table. Five tiny silver knives tumbled out, each one polished to perfection and honed to a sharp point. Exactly like the ones he'd seen Mei use so often, but with blue ribbons tied around the ends instead of pink.

"Your first set of alkahestry kunai," said Mei, grinning at him. "Now you've mastered the Dragon's Pulse, I can start teaching you how to use them."

Al stared at the little daggers, eyes wide in amazement. When he'd first come to Xing, he'd asked Mei over and over when he could start transmuting things, when he could learn what he'd called 'proper alkahestry' and, of course, when he'd get his own kunai. She'd always explained that the flow of chi was the most important part of alkahestry and transmuting was simply a by-product of that, and that he would get his own kunai when he was ready for them and not before. He had resigned himself to meditating, listening to her talk about the Dragon's Pulse and reading alkahestry books – of which there were surprisingly few – over and over again. While, in time, he'd come to see the importance of reading the flow of chi, he'd almost given up hope of ever getting his own kunai. But here they were, right in front of him, symbolising the fact that he was no longer a novice. That he'd made real, tangible _progress._

"Thank you!" Now it was his turn to envelop Mei in a hug. "You're an awesome teacher! I'm so glad I came here!"

He drew back to see her blushing madly but looking very pleased with herself. "You're an awesome student. I'm glad you came here too."

They stared at each other for a moment, a silly smile still on each of their faces, and Al became aware of something. He knew that the average time anyone ever looks directly into another person's eyes was two seconds. When your eyes meet for longer than that, even by another second or two, something frightening, overwhelming and very, very special happens. You form a connection that blocks out the outside world, creating a private moment even in a place with as little privacy as this. Like your souls approach their windows and take a look outside, seeing each other properly for the first time.

"Anyway," said Mei, breaking the connection and staring at her empty teacup, the blush on her cheeks intensifying, "now we've finished here, we might as well have a look around the market. I used to come here all the time; there's loads of interesting stuff that you can't find anywhere else."

"Yeah," he said, feeling his own face heat up. "I'd like that."

Mei paid for her tea and they stepped out once again into the throng of people. She grabbed his hand and led him down the crowded street, the shouts of merchants and customers ringing in his ears and the smell of exotic spices tickling his nose.

Al, interested as he was in the marketplace, couldn't help but think back to his training. He had applied an alchemic concept to alkahestry and it had worked, despite all evidence to the contrary. He knew the two came from the same root, but he had been convinced they were so different that that hardly even mattered any more. Was it possible that the two could be combined further? The tattoos on Scar's arm, the transmutation circle around Amestris… Al's eyebrows knitted together in thought. There was a whole world of possibilities here. How closely could they fit together? And – his eyes widened as this thought occurred to him – what about other sciences similar to them? He was planning to go further east once he'd mastered alkahestry; were there other practices over there that shared even more similarities, ones he'd never even heard of before? If he could study them all, reduce them to their base components and rebuild them from the ground up…

"Hey, look at this!" Mei pointed at one of the circus performers, jerking Al out of his thoughts. The man was holding a burning torch to his mouth and blowing, sending a jet of flame up into the air. "It's just like a dragon!"

"Yeah, it is!" Al clapped along with the crowd as the man took a bow, picked up five more torches and began to juggle them.

This new theory needed to be studied in detail, but that could wait. Right now, he was just going to enjoy his day at the market with Mei Chang.


	4. A Strange Kind of Beauty

And another one! This one deals with Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye and the rest of the usual military suspects, and their new stations in Ishval.

Once again, please leave a review! Comments, criticism and anything else you have to add are all very much appreciated.

o.O.o.O.o

August 21st 1918

"No, listen! She's the one! I can _feel _it!"

"You say that about everyone," sighed First Lieutenant Breda, kicking up sand as he strolled along with his hands in his pockets.

"But I actually mean it this time! I met her when I was running the family shop and it was love at first sight! She didn't care that my legs didn't work! And now she's waiting for me to come home! At least, I hope she is… _What if she gets lonely and moves on?_"

"You know, the great thing about marriage is that I don't have to worry about those things any more," said Second Lieutenant Falman, taking in the desert scenery with a peaceful smile on his face. "I know my family won't get bored and run off, unlike your girlfriend."

"She _won't!_" First Lieutenant Jean Havoc glared around at his comrades as if daring them to contradict him. "She loves me!"

"I'm sure she does, Havoc," said Second Lieutenant Fuery, patting him comfortingly on the arm.

"No really, I'm happy for you," said Breda. "I mean, this one's even human, isn't she?"

Havoc marched on with his arms crossed, making a point out of ignoring the others. Roy Mustang heard Captain Riza Hawkeye sigh in exasperation next to him and allowed himself a small smile. He'd transferred his old team over to the East with him when he'd realised that he couldn't imagine working without them, but he knew doing so would bring a certain air of informality. Even as his officers bickered and chatted, military life simply wouldn't be the same without them. He'd handpicked them long ago to be his team and he wasn't about to leave them behind.

They walked on, surveying their surroundings. This was an official patrol and required a certain level of awareness, but Roy knew it was unlikely anything would go wrong. Ishval had been at peace for months now, everyone too focused on cleaning up and rebuilding to bother with fights or riots. Besides, there was really nothing to fight or riot about. Roy kept a firm but relaxed grip on the area, keeping the place running smoothly but not exercising too much control. Ishval, he knew, was not his home and he had no right to decide how it should be. His job was simply to keep the peace, uphold the law and help as much as he possibly could with the reconstruction. He owed these people that much.

They made their way slowly through the streets, people giving them a wide berth. Some Ishvalans still feared and resented their presence and Roy knew that was justified, but he tried to give them as little reason as possible to have a problem with him. They were here to worry about the city, not each other. Most of the people he passed barely even noticed him, too busy concentrating on their reconstruction. Some were Ishvalan, some were Amestrian volunteers, but all were working together to rebuild. There was a strange kind of beauty in that. As he observed the sun-drenched landscape full of slow but steady activity, something caught his eye. A child was running toward them, no older than seven, with fear and desperation written plainly across his face.

"Mr soldier, sir!" he panted, skidding to a halt in front of Roy's patrol. "Please help me!"

"What's wrong?" asked Hawkeye, bending down to speak to the child at eye-level.

"It's my little sister! We were playing hide and seek and she ran into this building that wasn't all fixed up yet! One of the walls collapsed and she can't get out! I'm so sorry! Please help!"

"Where is she?" asked Roy, suddenly alert.

Relief flooded the boy's face. "Follow me!"

He ran off in the direction he'd come from with the soldiers in hot pursuit. The district he led them to was one of the more damaged areas of the city, unsafe for anyone let alone children as young as this boy and his sister. The houses were all in various states of disrepair, some nothing more than rubble in piles on the floor. It was places like these that reminded Roy just how much work needed to be put in to restore this place to its former glory and just how far he had to go. The boy took them to a house with only three walls standing; the front left hand corner had collapsed inwards.

"She's under there!" he said, pointing to the rubble. "She's alive, she was shouting for help! Please get her out, Mister!"

He surveyed the rubble with a trained, critical eye and saw… rubble. "Falman, how should we go about shifting this?"

"The wall fell inwards from the outside, sir, which means the inner rubble is supporting the outer. If we start there then there's a high likelihood of it falling and further injuring the girl. We should begin on the outside and work our way inwards."

"You heard the man!" barked Mustang. "Get moving!"

Fortunately, none of the rocks were too big to be moved by hand. The house had been built from mud-brick and had broken up easily when it fell, meaning that there was a large amount of small pieces. They worked quickly, the boy bouncing around next to them in anxiety and helping to shift some of the smaller rocks, and soon had a large amount of rubble piled up next to them.

"Alia!" shouted the boy, climbing up onto the remaining rocks. "Alia, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

"Brother!" came a weak little voice from somewhere under the rubble. "Please help me!"

It took the better part of an hour, but soon they had shifted enough of the ruins to help lift the small girl from under the remains of the house. She was shaking, covered in dust and immediately enveloped into a big hug from her brother.

"Are you hurt?" asked Hawkeye, bending down once again. "Is anything broken?"

She shook her head, still clutching at her brother. "No… no, I don't think so…"

"We should probably take her down to headquarters to get checked over," said Mustang. "Just to be safe."

Hawkeye wrapped the girl in her military jacket and steered her slowly back out onto the road. The boy ran up to Mustang and hugged him tightly round the middle.

"Thank you, Mr soldier! You saved her! My grandpa was telling me that Amestrian soldiers were bad, but you're not bad! You saved her life!"

"It was the least I could do," said Mustang, feeling a strange kind of pride well up in his chest. He'd protected someone. A little girl would grow up because of him and his men. The boy stood to attention and saluted him with a big smile on his face, and Roy allowed a small one to creep across his face as well. "You go and tell your parents to pick your sister up from the military headquarters, okay? She should be ready to go home once the examination's over."

The boy nodded and ran away, kicking up small puffs of sand as his feet struck the road.

o.O.o.O.o

The girl, it turned out, was weak and shaken but otherwise unhurt. She was cleaned up, given a hot meal and released to overwhelmed and thankful parents. An hour later, Roy sat in his office trying to think of reasons why he shouldn't fill out the paperwork and report the incident until a bit later. The office was a bit bigger than his old one in Central, with plenty of fully stocked bookshelves, chairs for any visitors he might have to deal with, a desk for his bodyguard and personal assistant and a large window with a view of the surrounding city.

"Brigadier General Mustang!"

Roy looked up reluctantly from the paper aeroplane he was folding, saw the man in the doorway and immediately leapt to his feet, snapping to attention. "Fuhrer King Grumman, sir!" he saluted.

"At ease, soldier," smiled Grumman. "And you can leave us in peace." He shooed the men escorting him out of the room and shut the door. "You'd think I didn't know how to take care of myself, all the bodyguards they insist on saddling me with."

"What brings you out East, sir?" asked Roy, trying to brush the paper aeroplanes out of view without looking too conspicuous about it. Nothing of interest had happened here recently; why was the Fuhrer himself making a personal visit?

"Oh, the usual," said Grumman, plonking himself down on one of the chairs by Roy's desk and making himself comfortable. "Just checking up on things. What kind of leader would I be if I didn't know my own country?"

"Good point, sir. Everything's going well out here, like I said on my reports. We had an incident today with some unstable ruins, but aside from that the repairs are ahead of schedule. A few Amestrians from outside the area turned up to help out, which made my job a lot easier, I can tell you." He sat down at his desk and started shuffling some papers, trying in vain to make it look more like a Brigadier General's workspace and less like a bombsite.

"Hard times do bring out the best in people," sighed Grumman. "I'm glad to hear you're doing well, Mustang. But that's not the only reason I came out here; I have an offer for you."

"Really? What would that be, sir?"

"Do you know how old I am?"

Roy looked up from his desk, eyebrow raised. "Is this some kind of test?"

"Oh no, nothing like that. The point is, I'm old. Seventy's just around the corner, if you must know. You wouldn't understand, young thing like you, but the old brain doesn't work quite like it used to."

"Really? Fancy a game of chess then, sir?"

Grumman laughed. "No, I'd hold onto that one win if I were you. I can still play some mean chess. But here I was, sitting in Central and lamenting my own inabilities, when I realised that I was surrounded by young soldiers far more capable than I. So I started thinking that maybe it was time to step aside and let the younger generation take over. And my thoughts turned instantly to you, Mustang. You should be proud."

Roy stared at Grumman, frozen to his seat. Was he really… could he be…

"Brigadier General Roy Mustang, I am officially offering you the post of Fuhrer King of Amestris. Do you accept my offer?"

Fuhrer King of Amestris. _Fuhrer King of Amestris_. The very position that Roy had been working towards his entire life. All these years of scheming and planning and fighting, studying alchemy and climbing the career ladder, and now here it was, right in front of him. He remembered standing in Ishval years ago with Maes Hughes, looking up at Bradley and swearing that someday he would be up on that podium wearing the title of Fuhrer. Someday, he had promised, he would have the power to protect the ones he loved, and now that power was so close he could almost taste it. All the blood, sweat and tears had been leading up to this one moment. All he had to do was say yes, to accept Grumman's offer, and he would have succeeded. He would have done what he'd promised Hughes he would and all his work, pain and sacrifices would have been worth it.

Grumman looked at him expectantly as he sat, speechless. "Do you need some time to think, Mustang?"

He opened his mouth, realised he had nothing to say and closed it again, then fumbled around in the muddled recesses of his brain and managed to string together a sentence. "No, sir."

"Well then?"

"No, sir."

"No?"

"Fuhrer King Grumman, I respectfully decline your offer."

Grumman's eyebrows almost shot off the top of his head. "But why not? Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

"It is. But I don't think I'm ready for it quite yet. I'm not nearly experienced enough to lead an entire country. Besides, I've caused a lot of destruction in my life, you know." He gestured to the window behind him. "See all those ruined buildings? I don't know how much of that was my work, if any of it, but it doesn't matter. I still contributed to the destruction of this place, and I can't in good conscience rule it before I've helped to reconstruct it. I need to help these people rebuild their lives before I can take the seat of command." He allowed a smile to creep onto his face. "I need to fix my old mistakes before I can go off and make new ones."

Grumman stared at him in silence for a few more seconds, then burst out laughing. "Roy Mustang," he managed between roars of laughter, "you really are something, you know that?"

"So I've been told, sir."

"Very well then," he said, becoming serious again almost instantly. "I respect your decision. I suppose this old fogey's not completely washed up just yet. I'll keep this country running until you can take it from me, Mustang. I'll keep going so that you can catch up."

And with that, he stood up, straightened his uniform and strolled out through the door, pausing only to wink knowingly at Roy before disappearing around the corner.

There were a few moments of silence.

"Go on, then," said Roy, turning to the blonde woman who'd been watching this exchange from behind her desk, silent and unmoving. "Let's hear it. How stupid I am for giving up what I've been fighting for all this time, how everything I ever wanted was right in front of me and I turned it down, how I'm a hopeless idiot and you should shoot me right now. Let's get it over with."

"Why would I say that?" she asked. "I think that was a very noble thing to do."

Now it was his turn to stare at her. "Really?"

"Really. I think you've changed a lot in the past few years."

"For better or for worse?"

"For better. Definitely for better."

He smiled and chuckled under his breath. "Yeah, well, don't let it get around. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

"Will do, sir."

Leaving his desk as messy as ever, Roy stood up and strolled over to the window. Being on the upper floors, it had an excellent view of the surrounding district. He could see the streets and houses of Ishval, all built of mud-brick and all the same dusty ochre colour. People milled around outside, seemingly oblivious to the sun beating incessantly down on them. Some of them were native Ishvalans, working to rebuild their ancestral homes, and some were Amestrian volunteers, helping them despite their differences. The houses themselves were in varying states of disrepair; some looked fine while some were little more than rubble, and Roy knew that other districts a little way away from here were still almost entirely razed to the ground.

But as he looked at the harsh, desolate landscape, the angry sun, the ruined city, he saw a strange kind of beauty. This land refused to lie down and die. He'd noticed it before, when he was helping to destroy the very place he was now working to rebuild. No matter how much they threw at it, the desert just sucked it up. Here was a place with fighting spirit. Even as half the city lay in pieces on the sand, its people still worked to slowly but steadily build it back, stronger than ever. To the inexperienced eye, this land was already dead. But Roy knew that underneath the rubble and sand lay a will to live, the strength and courage to keep fighting for survival.

Yes, there was definitely a lot of beauty out there.

And he realised, as Riza came to join him at the window, that there was a lot of beauty in here as well.


End file.
